


Where Aisles and Aisles of Dreams Await You

by handyhunter



Category: Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men: First Class - Fandom
Genre: Bruce Springsteen - Freeform, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-17
Updated: 2010-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-07 08:19:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handyhunter/pseuds/handyhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in a band is like being on a superhero team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Aisles and Aisles of Dreams Await You

**Author's Note:**

> Bruce Springsteen loves grocery stores. [He wrote a song about it!](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4uhxxrzoYk) And even though Max Weinberg can read his mind, Bruce Springsteen is probably not telepathic; then again, it's possible his band shares some sort of mental connection, at least according to Bruce, who OTBs them, like, a lot. Also, none of this is true.

Professor Xavier gave Scott a new mission and Scott, as always, was determined to see it through successfully. First, he made a plan. Then he wrote out a master list and copied it out in five parts: Meat, Dairy, Fruits &amp; Vegetables, Bread &amp; Breakfast, Healthy Snacks.

The first part of his plan consisted of getting everyone in the minivan without asking too many questions like, "If this is a mission, why are we wearing our regular people clothes?" - Bobby picked a great time to be sensible - or "Why can't you go grocery shopping by yourself?"

"Warren, you love shopping," Scott pointed out. He grabbed a few reusable grocery bags from behind the kitchen door and tossed them down the hall to Hank, who caught them one-handed, while holding onto Jean's purse and jacket in the other hand because she forgot something upstairs.

"Not for food!" Warren stood with his hands on his hips in front of Scott. It was, Scott realized, a move Warren copied from him. Scott eyed Warren for any hint of mockery, but he seemed sincere in his lack of enthusiasm for grocery shopping.

"If you don't go, you don't eat," said Jean, walking down the stairs. "Besides, what else do you have planned for today?"

Scott could practically see the wheels in Warren's head turning, processing the seriousness of Jean's threat and his own ability to fend for himself, in the domestic sense. Finally, he put his coat on over his wings and then clapped Hank on the shoulder. "Race you to the van!"

_Thank you,_ he thought to Jean.

She smiled at him and said, "I get to drive, right?"

A new grocery store - a supermarket, really - had opened up a few miles from the mansion. In the passenger seat, Scott programmed the van's GPS, while everyone else figured out the seating arrangements. He'd memorized the route, but it didn't hurt to have back-up, in case he forgot or the directions off the internet were wrong or Jean complained about him being a back-seat driver, which he was not at all -- it was just that he didn't think she could be concentrating on her driving while also, telekinetically, re-doing her hair and changing radio stations at the same time.

_I'll pretend you didn't think that._

"Eyes on the road!" Scott said. And then sent a _Sorry_ thought to Jean, because she wasn't driving completely without caution, even if she wasn't driving the way Scott did. At least she wasn't also talking on her cell phone.

Jean frowned at him. _Shut up and let me drive._

_Sorry_, he thought again. Scott kept one eye on the road and joined the conversation about the best uses for a toothbrush other than brushing one's teeth.

* * *

Inside the supermarket, the air was cool and shiny metal aisles stretched out as far as Scott could see. It was almost too perfect. The store was clean and bright and full of people. Scott cleared his throat. "I made a list -" everyone groaned, and he went on as if they were listening intently, "- and if we all take a section, it'll make our time here much more efficient. Please remember that we have a budget, so no sneaking junk food--"

"Hey, is that--?" Warren interrupted, looking intently at something behind Scott.

"Don't change the subject," said Scott, but no one was listening to him. He sighed and turned around.

"It _is_ Bruce Springsteen! And Clarence! Do you think he brought the whole band?" The more excited Bobby was, the faster he talked. "They must have a really large van."

"I think they're called tour buses. And I didn't know you were such a fan," said Hank.

They were all openly staring at the rock stars, even Scott, the grocery lists crumpled in his hand.

"Oh, I'm not," assured Bobby. "My parents are. You know how Bruce does the 'Dancing In The Dark' bit? When he pulls a kid up on stage with him to dance?" Everyone looked at Bobby blankly. "Well, he does. In a non-creepy way! I was one of those kids. We have videos." Bobby grimaced, probably wishing he hadn't mentioned the videos because when Hank remembered this, there was a good chance of them ending up as some sort of retaliation in their on-going prank wars.

Scott recalled his lists and handed them out. He was left with an extra one. "Where's Jean?"

* * *

Jean was talking to a red-headed woman next to a display of squash and pumpkins. _Excellent_, thought Scott, making his way around artfully arranged wooden barrels and boxes, considering the other guys picked every section but Fruits and Vegetables to go through. They were meeting Scott at this end of the grocery store when they were done.

"We were just talking," said Jean, after making the introduction. Scott found himself shaking hands with Patti Scialfa, wife of Bruce Springsteen, member of the E Street Band and solo recording artist, not necessarily in that order. Scott received all this information telepathically from Jean, who also added a warning, _Don't be a dork!_

_I'll try my best._

"I always like to stock up on oranges this time of year," Patti was saying. "We don't want anyone getting sick on tour."

Jean nodded. "The guys are such babies when they catch a cold."

"Hey!" said Scott. "Well, I guess that's true for the other three."

The other three wheeled their grocery cart around the corner, past the salad dressing. They were followed by Bruce and Clarence and two other short guys Scott didn't know. One of them was wearing a shirt that seemed to have lost the majority of its buttons.

"Hi there, fearless leader!" Bobby called out. Scott was afraid to look in the cart that looked way too full and not much of it the items he'd put on the lists.

"Are you part of a team?" asked Patti. She handed Jean a bag of oranges; Jean placed them in the cart directly on top of the bread. Scott winced.

"Yes! We're. . .also in a band!" improvised Jean. She looked at Scott. "Uh. He's the lead singer."

"What do you play?" Patti asked Jean.

"...The guitar!" To Scott, she thought, _There are four guitar players here. I could probably learn how to play by skimming the information from their head._

_You can do that?_ Scott knew she'd been working with the Professor, but he didn't know her powers had progressed that rapidly.

"They're in a band," Patti informed Bruce. "It's wonderful to see kids interested in music."

Up close, Scott could see Bruce was dressed like he couldn't afford new clothes, in faded jeans and an old t-shirt. In contrast, Patti was wearing knee-high leather boots and an outfit that Scott was fairly certain cost more than ten dollars. Jean raised an eyebrow at him.

_Clarence is dressed better than Bruce too! And I wasn't staring at her!_ Scott insisted. _I don't know about the other two, though._

"Meet our new friends, Little Steven and Nils! The rest of the band refused to go grocery shopping again," said Warren. It figured. Warren always was a social butterfly. He'd probably met so many rich and famous people that he'd forgotten how to be nervous around them. Scott also didn't know why Steven was called "Little," when Nils was clearly shorter, a thought he kept to himself.

"What's your band called?" asked Bruce.

"We're the. . ." Hank looked around for inspiration. "Cabbage Heads? Lettuce Leafs?"

". . .Fantastic Four!" interrupted Bobby.

"But there are five of you," said Clarence.

"Counting is not our strong suit," Hank said smoothly. To Bobby, he mouthed, "Fantastic Four?" Bobby shrugged helplessly.

Clarence 'hmm'ed. "What instrument do you play?"

"Certainly _not_ the saxophone," said Bobby, still awestruck.

"He's the back-up singer. I'm the bass player." Warren smiled beatifically over Bobby's startled expression and worried exclamation: "But I can't sing!"

Meanwhile, Jean was talking to Patti like they'd been friends forever. "What is it like being the only woman in the group?"

"Much like being the only woman in your group, I'd imagine," replied Patti, sharing a smile with Jean.

Scott hadn't realized Jean felt left out or didn't always like hanging out with them. Jean patted his arm. "Don't worry so much. I like being, um, in the band and even being 'one of the guys', but sometimes it's nice to have girlfriends."

"Exactly!" Patti Scialfa was totally gorgeous when she smiled, not that Scott was staring, but she was a red-head - because her hair actually looked red, which was the only colour he could see, instead of some shade of pink or grey - and evidently, he had a weakness for them? _One of them,_ he remedied, and Jean left her hand on his arm.

"Let me tell you about the time Soozie and I. . ."

Scott tried to listen to Patti's story, but Bruce was making it difficult. Next to her, Bruce held up a bunch of grapes and both Steven and Nils said, "_No_," very strongly. Bruce put down the grapes. "Supermarkets are fabulous, aren't they?" he said, beaming at all the fruit.

Scott wasn't sure if Bruce Springsteen - whose songs he might not listen to on a regular basis, but whose name he'd certainly heard of - was talking to him, but Steven and Nils didn't reply - they were busy checking out the watermelons - so Scott did. "I guess so?"

"What bands do you kids listen to nowadays?"

Scott named the first band that came to mind. "U2."

Bruce nodded. "I should've guessed. The sunglasses, right? I'm not sure why Bono started wearing them, but you don't need to copy another band to be heard. You gotta create your own sound."

"Actually, I have an eye-condition," Scott started to say, then stopped himself. "You know Bono?" His voice might have squeaked in awe.

Bruce picked up an apple and tossed it from hand to hand. Patti looked at her husband and said, "Ooh, get a dozen apples and we'll make pie," and then went back to her story. Nils was adding sound effects and Steven interrupted every so often to correct the facts because he maintained he was the least inebriated of the group that evening, which no one seemed to believe.

Bruce handed Scott an apple. "Here. Hold this for me." They walked all the way around the apple bins - there were at least five different kinds of apples, according to the price tags, but they all looked the same to Scott - before Bruce settled on ones he liked. He was still talking. "The leader's gotta lead. But you gotta know when to be open to advice from your band too. I mean, you're together for a reason, right? So if your, what instrument do you play?" Bruce looked at Hank.

"I've been known to dabble a little on the piano," said Hank. He was also looking through the apples, so at least one item on Scott's master list could be checked off.

"So if your piano player tells you he needs to be able to play a song a certain way or has an idea about something. . ."

"Or wants to eat twinkies," interjected Hank.

". . .it might be worth listening to." Bruce bagged thirteen apples. Scott wasn't sure if he did that on purpose or lost track of how many he was supposed to buy. "Unless you don't like his idea, then you stand on top of his piano and play whatever the hell you want." Bruce grinned, so Scott decided he was joking about the piano thing.

Eventually, Bruce and his band had to leave because they had an evening engagement. "A fundraiser, not a gig," Bruce explained, "but we're playing at the Garden in a few weeks. You should stop by!" He made it sound like a dinner party he was hosting, rather than a concert in front of thousands of people.

"We'll be there!" said Jean, waving.

* * *

"Ugh." Warren dropped the last of the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. "Why did we buy so much food?"

"I don't know. Do we really need a giant box of Pop Tarts?" Scott asked. He wondered if hiding the junk food behind the cans of tuna that no one ate would work, like an 'out of sight, out of mind' situation. Probably not. Hank was tenacious when he wanted to be.

"Yes!" said Bobby. He was stocking the freezer with all their frozen pizza and popsicles, neither of which were on the list either. Bobby had kept them frozen while he and Clarence talked about music.

"But you don't even play an instrument!" said Scott when Bobby accidentally let it slip that he'd been using his powers in front of everyone.

"I _listen_ to music, don't I?" Bobby leaned against the freezer door to shut it. "Besides, it's not like anyone noticed. You didn't! You were busy talking to Bruce!"

Jean, too, was still talking about their encounter with the E Street Band. "Did you know Patti was the only woman in the band for a while? Until Soozie Tyrell joined not that long ago."

She handed Scott the milk. Someone decided to buy three dozen eggs and only one quart of milk, instead of a gallon. If they'd just followed the list. . .

"You are a veritable font of knowledge," said Hank, snagging the twinkies that fell out of one of the bags.

Jean grinned. "Also capable of using a search engine."

. . .And then he remembered what Bruce told him. "Are you sharing those?" Scott asked Hank.

"Those are _Twinkies_," Warren said, shocked. "Not a vegetable."

Scott shrugged and flipped the Twinkie over so he couldn't see its nutrition panel. "I know. But maybe a little junk food once in a while won't kill us. Not a steady diet of this stuff, of course, but--" He stopped talking abruptly when Jean pressed against him and placed the palm of her hand on his forehead.

"Just checking to see if you have a temperature." Jean was standing very, very close; in fact, if she stood any closer, Scott thought his temperature would rise.

"Who cares!" whooped Bobby. He grabbed a bag of chips and departed the kitchen, Hank and Warren hot on his heels.

"Um," said Scott. "We should finish unpacking the groceries."

"Or you could kiss me," said Jean. And then she stood on her tip-toes and kissed him. Scott closed his eyes and kissed her back. He should declare more junk food days if this is what it lead to.

Not too long later, as they left the kitchen, Scott asked, "Did you and Patti talk about anything other than music?"

_That's between me and her._ Jean took Scott's hand. "Why?"

"Just something Bruce said, about how bands stay together and how he picks the music, but everyone has a say in it too, and the reason why they play so well together is because they grew up together, but also they practice a lot, though sometimes it's best to jump right in and start playing music." Scott realized he was rambling and paused to collect his thoughts. "Maybe his point was everyone should have a chance to sing?"

Jean's hand tightened on his and she practically pulled him into the rec room where the guys were watching television and munching on non-healthy snacks. She lowered the volume on the TV with her telekinesis. "You guys! Scott had a fabulous idea! We should have a karaoke party!"

Scott shared alarmed glances with Bobby, but they were outvoted three to two. He shrugged at Bobby and smiled. Who knew, maybe they'd find they had some hidden musical abilities.


End file.
